Fence Posts
by Ohappydaze
Summary: Kirk and Spock are drafted when the Romulan treaty is violated, leaving Leonard to try and cope without them. Mcspirk gayness.


Leonard "Bones" McCoy wasn't too happy about the mess on his jeans, but the border collie that walked beside him seemed pleased to be covered head-to-toe in mud. Her tongue was out and her tail stood straight and bounced in self-contentment. Bones had taken her out for a walk earlier that morning, down the long, expansive dirt roads of Iowa. Usually she would stay put by him without the need of a leash to keep her in line, but it was just his luck that some of the kids from town were messing around in the fields.

Bones didn't know who to be more embarrassed for: The teenagers whose first time was interrupted by a slobbering, hyperactive mutt, or himself for falling face-first in the moist ground while he tried to stop her. Things only got worse for both parties when he yelled at them about protection before stomping off with the dog squirming in his arms. Needless to say, those teens probably won't be trying to get intimate again for a long while.

Wooden posts began to appear and line one side of the road to signify that Bones was getting close to home. They used to have barbed wire on them but, when Bones and his significant others moved into the old barnhouse, they decided that there was really no point in keeping the tetanus-carriers around. It was Iowa, it was the country; no one was going to break in, and, even if they did, they'd be sorry the second they saw the Vulcan.

The wooden posts lead to a long, dirt driveway. Bones tucked his hands in his pockets, feeling how wet they were, and grumbled under his breath. He looked to the side, where the dog was doing her best to try and trip him with her close proximity. Her tail was wagging, which made him scoff.

"Yeah, you're pleased with yourself now, Lady. Just wait 'till you're tied down with freezin' hose water pouring over ya. How do you like the sound of _that_?"

The dog slobbered excessively and flicked her tail. Bone shook his head. He didn't think it was possible for animals to inherit human traits, but he'd be damned if this mutt didn't act just like Jim at times.

"Ignorance is a bliss, huh, old girl?"

The dog snorted.

"Maybe you'll hate me enough to sleep in your own damn bed for once, 'stead sprawling out over my legs."

Lady veered off course and rammed her head into Bones' knee for no good reason other than to show spontaneous affection. He laughed in his chest and stumbled before bending over and scratching behind her ear.

On the front porch, two pairs of eyes watched this scene play out. Jim sat in a rocking chair that was bought for the sake of irony, but enjoyed far more than expected. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and he rocked himself slowly, listening to the soft creak of the wood beneath his weight. Spock stood in the doorway with his hands clasped formally behind his back. There weren't many expressions a Vulcan could conceive, but if you knew how to read his eyes, you might spot worry and unease.

The men had been sitting in silence for the most part, but now, as Bones got steadily closer to being within earshot, Jim drew in a breath and shifted back. Spock took this change as a chance to speak up.

"We cannot keep it from him forever," he said.

Jim grimaced. "I know, but...he just...He looks so happy right now."

"I believe you humans use the term '_ripping off the bandaid_' to counteract the unhealthy and uncomfortable prolongation that can manifest when unfortunate news must be delivered."

"Well, could _you _tell him? Now, when he's smiling bigger than I've seen in weeks?" retorted Jim, looking up at his boyfriend. Spock shrugged subtly and let out a curt sigh.

"It will be difficult, but it must be said nonetheless. If you would prefer that I be the one to give the news, then I shall. But do not assume that this means I find no reluctance to be the one to put an, undoubtedly, abrupt end to Leonard's current state of contentment."

"It doesn't have to be right this second, does it?"

"No. But it we cannot delay it any longer; it must be today."

"Fine. We'll let him settle in, then we'll make him some tea and ease into it."

Spock's eyebrow perked up in mild amusement, "Might I remind you of Leonard's perceptiveness? Us making him tea would be as conspicuous as if we were to leave the papers lying in plain sight."

Jim just laughed quietly, because Bones had reached the front porch and was coming up the stairs. Lady ran up past his feet and hurried to Jim's side as he leaned forward to receive her. Upon noticing the mud on both of them, he then looked up at Bones and smirked.

"Trouble with the ground?"

"Damn dog took off in the field," replied Bones, grumbling.

"See a rabbit or something?"

"No. But she _did _find a couple of horny teenagers rolling around in the wheat fields," Bones laughed again. "Ah, young, dumb love. Weren't even using protection."

Jim closed his eyes, wincing. "Oh, _please _don't tell me you grilled them out-"

"-So I gave 'em a good lecture about teen pregnancy and STDs before leaving."

"Of course you did."

"In all fairness, he did not use the term 'grilled'."

"Thank you for your input, Spock." Jim slapped his knees and rose up, scratching the back of his neck. He looked Bones up and down, and there was a flicker of some, deep emotion before his blue eyes were lighting up with a smile. "You need a bath."

"Y'think I'm not aware of that? Would you mind hosing Lady down while I go wash off? I don't want that mutt tracking dirt in my house. I've already got a dog leaving a mess wherever he goes."

"Don't look at me like that."

"You're the one who's the problem. Spock's as neat as a pin."

Bones was smiling as he undid his boots; waiting for Spock's confusion about the idiom, and how he failed to see how he could be compared to a sharp, metal object. However, no reply came, which made him look up to see that both men had fallen quiet and thoughtful. It was disturbing to see on both, especially when he just set them up for a round of playful bickering.

Bones tugged off both shoes and set them over by the welcome mat. He stood up and looked between them, since they seemed to stop acknowledging his presence altogether.

"...Everything alright?"

"Hm?" Jim was the first to snap out of it. He nodded insistently and waved Bones inside. "Fine, everything's fine. Go get cleaned up, Spock and I'll get the dog."

"Alright. Thanks."

Bones still sounded uncertain, but he stepped inside and left the other two to exchange looks. Once the screen door swung shut, and Bones could be heard going up the creaky stairs, Jim ran his fingers through his hair. He snapped his fingers to get Lady's attention, then took her around to the side of the house without a word.

Spock watched him go, then decided to take shelter from the oncoming gust of chilly wind by stepping inside. As the sound of water rushing through pipes was heard, Spock pulled out two sheets of paper from the bottom of a magazine stack. He stared at them, and knew that this was going to be more difficult than he estimated.

It was dark out when the men were all inside and sitting together. Lady had begrudgingly stretched herself out on the ground by Spock's feet; blatantly avoiding Jim and Bones as if it were their fault she had to get wet. Spock wasn't particularly fond of dogs-finding more pleasure in the company of their cat-but found himself stroking her soft fur as he stared out at nothing.

Bones had just eased down next to Jim on the sofa, and gave a good stretch before taking up his mug of tea from the coffee table. He inhaled the sweet, ginger scent, then took a gracious sip before smacking his lips and looking at the two.

"You're awfully quiet," he commented. Then he snorted. "Don't think I haven't noticed the apology tea, either."

Spock and Jim exchanged glances. A silent discussion was had between their miniscule expressions, then Spock put his hands on his knees and looked at Bones.

"In truth, we have some very ill news to give you."

Bones shifted back, looking serious. "What did Jim break this time?"

"This is important, Bones."

"Alright, what is it?"

"Jim and I...Well…" Spock was clearly faltering on his eloquence, so he knit his fingers together as if this would suppress any unwarranted emotion. "Earlier in the week, Jim and I received letters from Starfleet. Recently, a Romulan vessel has crossed the neutral zone and violated the treaty by firing on several innocent starbases. An estimated two hundred thousand have been killed."

"Jesus," said Bones; his tea forgotten. A thought crossed his mind and his heart plunged down to his stomach. "So," he asked hesitantly, "what's this got to do with you and Jim?"

"It appears that our two-year enlistment was enough to qualify us for active duty when required. In a case such as this, it is very likely that interstellar war will follow in response to the attacks."

"So you're saying…"

"We've been drafted," said Jim softly, distantly. "We're due to report at Starfleet Academy by next week. From there we'll be shipped off to Federation for process and enrollment."

Bones shifted in his seat and gripped the armrest with one hand. "But you're not expected to do any kind of _fighting, _are you?"

"Our duties are unforeseen. No one, neither human nor Vulcan, can predict the severity of what is to follow. In the circumstance that diplomacy cannot hold, it is very likely that we both shall see combat to a degree."

Bones sat still and stared at the coffee table. Two pairs of eyes were watching him, waiting for a reaction that he wasn't ready to give. As if sensing the tension, Lady rolled up onto her feet and pattered quietly away.

"Bones?" asked Jim, careful.

"Shutup, I'm thinkin'."

"Could you think outloud?"

Bones glared sideways at him, then let out a sigh and rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw. "I'm just tryin' to figure out...If I joined Starfleet next week, there might only be a few months to get me to the point where I can follow you two. As long as you don't get yourselves blown up, there's a good chance-"

"Babe, please don't do this."

"I must protest as well. If you were to join Starfleet, there is no guarantee that you would be assigned to the same squad, ship, or even sector as us. To put yourself needlessly in danger would be illogical."

"Dammit, what else do you want me to do?" demanded Bones, hitting the armrest angrily. "I can't just let you two go out to war, like I'm some goddamned army wife! You can't _really _expect me to sit idly by while you risk your lives in some stupid conflict that should've been able to be resolved with the proper, right-minded politicians."

"We don't expect you to, but we're asking you to," said Jim, taking his hand. "It's not just that we want you to be safe, it's that you're needed on United Earth. You're the best doctor in Iowa, maybe even the entire North. Patients would die without you."

"_You two _would die without me," snapped Bones, yanking his hand away.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one."

"Oh, don't you start spouting that philosophical bullshit at me, Spock."

"But I am correct," replied Spock evenly. "It is very possible that Jim and my own assets could increase the likelihood of Federation victory. Had we not resigned from Starfleet on personal basis, we would have excelled in our fields beyond what was expected from us. Persons such as us would give Federation a great advantage."

"So because you two were teacher's favorite, I'm supposed to believe that it's really worth it for you to go roughing up the galaxy?"

"Such a term would indicate needless violence. Jim and I would be following Federation standards and duties, which would include the use of aggression only when it is absolutely necessary. I remind you that Starfleet was originally intended for the exploration and charting of the unknown. It's new, militant attitude will not overshadow its deeper, more valued morals."

"You'd be surprised what _morals _get lost in war," replied Bones; his growling voice barely above a whisper. His energy left him, then, like something snapped and let the fight drain out in a rush. "What time do you two leave?" he asked.

"Next Monday. 0700 hours," said Jim. "If we're not there, we can be court marshalled."

"Fine."

Bones stood up and left the room without another word. A few moments later, the thin frame of the front, screen door could be heard rattling shut. Lady stood by the window and watched her master walk away with her tail wagging.

Jim and Spock were left in a thick, still silence. Spock's hands were contemplatively pressed together at the fingertips, and Jim was biting his thumb. After a few minutes, he hit the cushion.

"Dammit," he breathed out.

"We predicted his reaction."

"Yeah, but..._dammit._"

Jim pushed himself off the couch and stormed for the front door. He grabbed the paint-chipped handle and was about to yank it open when Spock appeared from nowhere and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I believe that what Leonard truly needs right now is to sort out the situation himself," he said. The fact that the words _illogical, human, _or _overly emotive _didn't find their way into the sentence showed that Spock truly understood the weight of what the third member of their trio was going through.

"He's going to go get drunk," replied Jim, his jaw clenched.

"Perhaps. However, we can trust him to find a safe way home."

"This is fucked up."

"Although I would not use your particular terminology, I must agree. Considering that there will be nothing Leonard can do for us once we leave, I honestly do not know who will suffer most in this situation."

"It's gonna be him," said Jim quietly. The hand on his shoulder gave a very human, very comforting squeeze.

"Then we shall help him come to terms until the moment we must depart."

Jim rested his temple against the aluminum frame and blew out a breath. He looked at Spock and shook his head, then let out a laugh that was almost heartbreaking.

"Man, he's going to yell at us a lot when he gets back."

Spock nodded.

"Most likely."

Bones did yell at them. He yelled at them all night, and on into the small hours of the morning. He yelled at them whenever he could; about everything. He protested, he fought, he screamed. It nearly broke the household. Then when he was done yelling, he went silent, and that was probably worse than anything he could have said. Everything he did was tense and bitter; things were slammed and shoved to the side, but he never once spoke. Jim trying to coerce him back into talking, and Spock gave his best attempt to at least get a rise from the doctor. Nothing worked, and they were given the silent treatment for two entire days.

Then, on the third day, Jim had enough. He went outside and found Bones working on the hedges with some old-fashioned trimmers. They had tools that could shape the bushes in under three seconds, but the doctor had opted to a manual approach, probably for the sake of avoiding going inside.

Jim followed the wrap-around porch until he found his boyfriend. Without a word, Jim grabbed the trimmers from him abruptly and threw them in the dirt. Bones looked up at him, glaring, and held eye contact as he reached down to pick them up again. In response, Jim kicked them away.

"Enough," he snapped. "We're going to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" replied Bones, and it was the first time Jim heard his Southern growl in what felt like forever. He stood upright and tugged his gloves off, afterwards hitting them against his palm impatiently.

"You're not being fair," said Jim.

"Life ain't fair, kid."

"No, it isn't, but you can be. What Spock and I have to do is above what we're capable of stopping: We can't help it that we were drafted. But you're taking the days we have left with each other, and you're making them more miserable than they have to be. Instead of just fighting what has to happen, why don't you appreciate what we have and stop making Spock and I feel like complete dicks for something that's not our fault?"

"I know it's not your fault, but I think I have the right to be more than a little pissed about it, don't you?"

"You have every right! So do Spock and I. But you don't see us wallowing around, do you?"

Bones threw his gloves down. Even in the Autumn, it was warm out, and his face was red from the sun, yardwork, and the growing anger. With his shoulders squared, Bones stepped forward and jabbed Jim in the chest.

"You don't get it," he spat. "You and Spock are going to have each other to hang onto, and what am I gonna have? Nothing! Not a goddamn _anything! _I know how these wars go: I've seen the news, I've read the articles. First everything's gonna be fine; you'll send me messages, you'll be posted somewhere relatively safe, and I'll have constant news on what's going on if I just listen to the radio.

"Then the messages are gonna be less frequent. You'll be moved somewhere more obscure, somewhere top secret; where the news can't report on. Then I won't hear a goddamned thing for weeks, months, maybe even a year; when, suddenly, a pair of Starfleet Officers are showin' up on my doorstep with a Federation flag in their hand and a recited condolence on their lips. I can't stand the thought of you two dyin', but at least you'll do it together."

They were close, so very close, and Jim felt his heart beat increase with each word. Bones had a talent or a curse of making reality crush down on a person like a weight. As Bones grew more enraged, Jim did the only thing he could think of: He grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him in roughly.

They weren't kissing, but they were centimeters apart, and it forced Bones to meet his eyes.

"I swear to you, Leonard McCoy," Jim breathed out tightly, "that Spock and I will _not _leave you to die alone. We're going to go to war, we're going to kick ass, and then we're going to come home and move to Georgia and buy a farm; just like you've wanted."

"Don't make me empty promises, kid. I've had enough of those."

"You should know by now that I don't make empty promises. I mean every damn word that I say."

Bones melted slightly in his grasp, "I know."

Jim closed the short distance between them in a breathtaking kiss. It was violent and passionate, but driven by such sentimental overtures that it couldn't help but feel sweet and tender. Jim grabbed the short hair at the nape of Bones' neck and tugged at it, while his boyfriend just hung on to the front of his shirt like Jim's life depended on it. Their hands then wandered where they pleased for several, blissful seconds as the kiss began to die down.

When they pulled apart, breathing heavily, Bones had moved both hands to rest on the undersides of Jim's jaw, and Jim had a viper-like grip around his waist.

"I'm sorry," said Bones, breathless. "I'm sorry I wasted…"

"It's okay. Babe, you...it's okay."

Bones' lips grazed his cheek as he moved forward to put his chin on Jim's shoulder;

arms going around his neck. Jim rubbed circles on his back as they stood, embracing, in the sunlight for who cares how long.

Jim pulled away slightly, still keeping his hold.

"You need to talk to Spock," he said in Bones' ear.

"Yeah, I know. The hobgoblin thinks I've been acting all kinds of illogical, doesn't he?"

"He always does. I think he understands where you're coming from on this one, though. Hey, you might even get a victory over him."

"Not likely."

"Worth a shot."

They pulled apart and Jim kissed him one more time before he let his hands slide off. The abandoned trimmers glinted in the sunlight, bringing his attention to them. With a smirk, Jim waved in the direction of the bushes.

"I guess I'll finish what you started."

"Passive-aggressively started."

"Yeah."

"Alright. Where's the green blooded bastard?"

"Inside somewhere."

Bones nodded and pushed his hands into his pockets. His hands were too thick to fit all the way in, so he settled for leaving his thumbs hooked on the outside. Bones passed a brief, heartfelt glance to Jim before he bowed his head and started to walk away.

"Bones!"

At Jim's call, he turned back. The other man smiled; all blue eyes and blond haired beauty.

"I love you," he said.

"Love you, too, darlin'."

A genuine smile crossed Jim's face, and that was enough to make Bones smile back in a small way before heading up the front stairs and into the house.

Once he entered the living room, Bones could pick out the soft sound of a piano. It was more like someone was tinkering with the keys than an all-out concert, but the sound was one that always brought comfort to Bones; even in the slightest way. Their grand piano was located in the foyer, so that's where he headed; ignoring the insistent mewl of their tabby cat that had found her way into the kitchen. She was supposed to be fed every day at noon and, right on the clock, there she was sitting in front of the cabinets. Punctual, neat, and borderline annoying: Just like Spock.

And speaking of the Vulcan, Bones found him sitting at the piano with his back ramrod straight as usual and facing away from the doorway. There were sheets of old music out, even though Spock had long ago memorized the notes. He experimentally and tentatively played each key, as if deep in thought and not caring that he looked rather silly.

Bones felt a pang of guilt from looking at him. Jim was right, he hadn't been acting fair, and even the Vulcan suffered from it. Taking in a quiet breath, Bones crossed the room and made himself comfortable on the other side of the wooden bench.

Spock glanced sideways at him, and withdrew his hands from the keys. Instead of meeting his gaze, Bones studied the music sheet and positioned his fingers over the right keys. After a moment, he began to play the complex song; missing a few notes, but getting the general beauty of it.

He didn't know how long he had been playing before Spock joined in on an upper octave. The song was meant for one piano, and one player, but the overlapping melody sounded right and harmonious. Bones could tell Spock was pleased with the result by the slight thrum of amusement in the back of his mind, where their bond always resided.

Whenever Bones had to breach Spock's designated set of keys, he would be sure to brush the tip of his finger over his knuckles. Spock returned the favor while going into the lower octave, which created a sentimental feeling through their bond. Bones felt suppressed guilt, sorrow, and anger from the Vulcan. He soothed it with thoughts of forgiveness, apology, and affection.

When the song was done, Bones and Spock's hands were only two keys apart. As the vibrations of the final notes died out, Bones reached his pinkie over and tapped it on Spock's. After a moment of deliberation, the Vulcan turned his hand over and allowed Bones to place two fingers against his palm. It slid up until they settled into a Vulcan kiss.

This time, when Spock looked at Bones, his gaze was met.

"You missed approximately seventeen notes, and your rhythm was off by

one-point-thirty-five beats," said Spock, very factually.

"Well, now, I never claimed to be Mozart."

"Yes, but one would assume, after all your practice, that some improvement might have been made."

"It's not my fault that I'm not some Vulcan that can be programmed with the tempo tuned just right."

"I have not been 'programmed' to do anything. My musical acceleration comes from discipline for studying and natural talent; both of which you seem to lack."

"I'm gonna miss you, Spock."

"I, too, shall come to crave the presence of your illogicalness."

Bones leaned forward for a human kiss on the cheek, which Spock returned by putting their foreheads together. It lasted briefly, then they pulled apart and Bones cracked his fingers before reaching to the top of the piano in search of more music.

"Alright, then, let's bring out some good, Georgia classics, and _then _we'll see who can play better."

It was still dark out when Bones woke up on the day that Jim and Spock were going to leave him. His arm was asleep, tossed haphazardly over his head, and a pair of fingers gently scratched into his mussed hair. It took a moment for him to trace the origin of the movement over to Jim's side of the bed. The man was awake, dressed, and leaning over him with a small, sad smile on his face.

"Morning, babe," he muttered; voice hoarse with the morning.

Bones shifted and glanced to the side. The other half of the bed was empty where a warm Vulcan once slept. The light on the bathroom was on, which answered the question of where Spock had gone off to. With a tired grunt, Bones turned his gaze back to Jim.

"'Time is it?"

"0500. We have to leave soon."

"Mm."

With effort, Bones pushed himself up and screwed his eyes. Breathing in heavily, he rubbed his face and then dropped his hands to his lap. Jim moved back and went to the armchair in the corner of the room, where he had placed his suitcase, and began to zip it up. Soon after, Spock came from the bathroom, looking pristine as ever, and regarded Bones with a soft look.

"If you are willing to do some baking, I believe that Jim and I were hoping that you would do us the honor of making your 'pancakes' before we must report to the launching grounds," he said.

Bones smiled, too tired to be upset at what the words '_launching grounds' _implied. He nodded, muttered an agreement to emphasize, then swung his legs over the bed. It wasn't until the sheets fell from his legs that he realized he was still bare from head to toe. Memories of the other night swept into his mind and comforted him with warm images as he stood up and crossed to the shared dresser.

Bones only took time to slip on a pair of boxers and one of Spock's shirts; Jim was done packing, and he wanted every second to be spent in their company. Although he had bed head, stubble, and desperately needed a shower, Bones slumped downstairs while his well-dressed boyfriends looked like kings in comparison.

The moment they arrived at Starfleet, their postures would become ramrod and regal. But now, as they sat at the kitchen table with Bones at the stove, they were relaxed and open.

Soon a stack of pancakes was on the table, along with maple bacon for Jim, and a bowl of fresh fruit for Spock. Bones himself only put a pancake on his plate so that they wouldn't rat on on him for not eating. However, he didn't think that the growing uneasiness in his stomach would allow anything more than a few bites, so he mainly focused on his coffee.

"So," said Jim, after a few thick moments of silence, "you know those teenagers you stopped in the wheat field last week? I totally think I saw them trying to get at it again in the back of Joe's Diner. I don't know about you, but I think someone needs to teach them what a bed is."

Bones looked up, and he was actually smiling. "What, were they doing it by the trash disintegrator?"

"Better yet; they were doing it in the delivery truck."

"Highly unsanitary," commented Spock. "I feel compelled to suggest that we never order delivery service from this diner of Joe's."

Bones and Jim both chuckled and grinned. The rest of the breakfast was spent in easy gossip and playful, mild teasing. Bones didn't know how Jim did it, but he managed to direct the conversation in such a way that none of them even thought about how much they would miss it; all the bickering and togetherness. They almost even forgot what was supposed to happen until it was time to put the dishes in the sink and get ready to leave.

Spock helped Bones clean out the bacon grease, although it normally disgusted the Vulcan, and Jim wiped down the table. Bones then insisted that he was going to see them off, and went upstairs to brush his teeth and try to look at least a little bit presentable. He came down with a pair of jeans, a jacket over Spock's shirt, and a cowlick. Both Spock and Jim could agree that they hadn't seen him look more handsome.

Jim had a thing for cars, but they never had enough money to get him a good one. So they had settled for a really pimped-out Cadillac de Ville that was excavated and renewed from a scrap yard. Bones initially hated the thing, but had grown a fondness for it since he had too many memories of Jim dragged his boyfriends out for a reckless drive down the dirt roads. They only got pulled over twice, which was a miracle by any other name.

Now Bones stood by the car and tried not to watch as Jim bent down and said goodbye to Lady. Spock always insisted that he had no partiality to animals, but Bones saw him go out of his way to hunt down the cat and give her a few scratches behind the ear before joining them outside.

When they were all in the car, Bones opted to sit in the back. From there, he could watch Spock's bangs become delightfully mussed up by the wind, and he always loved how Jim's blue eyes could be seen in the rearview mirror as he constantly checked in on him. Bones paid special attention to these things as they drove-slower than usual-down to the launching grounds of Starfleet.

The drive was long, but felt far too short. When they pulled up to the restriction gates, Spock and Jim showed their draft papers. The security officer had confirmed them and directed them through a gate and over by a check-in point. The car jolted when Jim pulled the parking break, and all three of them sat for several moments of silence before moving.

Bones stared at the back of the driver's seat while Spock and Jim got out. Their bags were placed in the back, and all they had to do was reach in and pluck them up. Instead, Jim opened Bones' door and obnoxiously leaned over him to pick up the suitcases, making the doctor swat at him. Jim was smiling when he pulled back, but it sobered when he saw Bones' grimace as he got out.

They stood, the three of them, and looked around at all the docking stations and shuttlecrafts. Bones felt his heart plunge to his stomach and worked his mouth wryly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was Spock. This made it harder to look up at him, but he did it anyway.

"I believe that this is where we must part," said Spock quietly.

Bones nodded, swallowed, and held out a shaking hand to Jim. "I'm gonna need the keys if I'm supposed to drive home, y'know."

Jim didn't hand them over. He had been doing such a good job at keeping the mood light, but he physically struggled now to school his features. For a split moment, his expression broke, and then he moved forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Bones.

With Spock's hand on his shoulder, and Jim's weight pressing into him, Bones had to ball his hands into the back of Jim's shirt to keep himself from fighting their departure again. Jim buried his face in his shoulder, but he wasn't crying, and never would; that just wasn't what James Kirk did. When they pulled away, Bones kept an arm around Jim and then put his other hand on the back of Spock's neck.

"Well," he said; his voice grittier than usual, "you two morons do your best not to kill yourselves out there."

"We will put optimum exertion on the avoidance of it," replied Spock.

Bones nodded in approval and then kissed them both in their own special way, trying to break the contact that he never wanted to end. They pulled away and Jim handed him the keys, afterwards lifting his suitcase from the ground. Bones stepped backwards towards the car and fiddled with the keys. He waved them away towards the small building.

"Well, go on. Romulan ass ain't gonna kick itself."

Jim smiled and huffed a weighty laugh before he began to step away. Spock followed, and Jim waved his hand.

"We'll see you in a few months, Bones."

"I'm countin' on that." They were almost out of earshot soon after he said this. Bones struggled with himself for a moment, then decided that, dammit, he didn't embarrass himself enough for these two. So he shouted almost at the top of his lungs; "I love you, you bastards!"

"The feeling of affection and greater sentiment is mutual."

"He means we love you, too!"

Bones watched them go until they were inside the building. He had prepared for this moment and knew what was supposed to happen next; he was supposed to get in the car, drive home, and then try not to get drunk on the nearest bottle of alcohol. Instead, he found himself standing there and staring at the door as if they were going to come back out any second now.

It was an odd feeling, being separated from them. He wasn't expecting there to be such a strong feeling of finality about it, but there it was; he felt like a kid who had been abandoned forever. Half of him wanted to follow them right in, '_Oh, you forgot this bottle of water that I most certainly didn't just find on the floor of the car.', 'Hang on, I meant to tell you that I'm actually signing up for Starfleet. See you soon.' _but the other half wanted to just stand there and wait for them to come back.

He was frozen in place until, from seemingly nowhere, a warmth and comfort like nothing else spread throughout his mind and gave him the strength to move. Bones turned and got into the driver's seat. Before he put the keys in the ignition, he lowered the mental shields Spock taught him about; curious if there was anything the Vulcan was trying to say.

A voice filtered through the defenses of his mind; low, soft, and loving.

"_There is a chance that we may be damaged upon our return, Leonard, but the only damage that could do us permanent harm would be your own. I must emphasize the importance of your safety, ashayam. You are most precious to us."_

If Bones told himself that he wasn't going to cry, he certainly didn't remember. The back of his throat tightened and went dry, and his eyebrows pinched heavily in a grimace. Doing his best to keep his composure, he started the car and backed out. Spock's voice was gone, the mental shields were back up, but the words echoed in his mind the whole way home.

Bones didn't get drunk that night, he got completely hammered. He drank until every emotion, every sense was completely addled and forgotten. Then, when he was too dizzy to process a single thought, he fell into bed and willed his consciousness away.

It didn't take long for the emptiness of the house to sink in. When Bones woke up the next morning, he didn't know if he should use the toilet for emptying his stomach, or his overfull bladder. He managed to work in both, and then spent the rest of the morning doing the first; bent over the porcelain bowl with Lady worriedly sitting in the doorway.

His stomach didn't calm again until late in the afternoon, and the headache was enough to kill a man. Bones spent most of his time laying on the bathroom floor with his face turned in the crook of his elbow and the rug ridiculously tossed over his head.

"God damn...life," he'd grumble out at intervals from under the fuzzy, blue shield.

When he wasn't delirious, he was expecting Spock to come in and grill him with logic and annoying pretension. He also expected Jim to come in with the holorecorder and try to capture his greatest downfall. Instead, the only one who visited him was the cat; who made herself rather comfortable on the small of his back.

Bones wasn't well enough to move until dinner. At that point, he had taken enough medicine to sedate an army, and managed to shuffle downstairs with a blanket draped around his shoulders. All the lights were off, and there was no sound of piano; no loud, annoying sports broadcasts, no Jim, and no Spock.

Lady was whimpering by the front door, and Bones felt bad that she had to stay in all day and suffer at his doing. He opened the door and let her run out and take care of her business, then turned to the kitchen and gave the cat a full bowl of tuna.

Not knowing what to do after that, Bones repressed the temptation to take up drinking again and grabbed a classic coke from the fridge. He had a feeling that it wouldn't help with his upset stomach, but it would have to do. With the bottle in hand, he went to the sofa and slouched down in what was usually Jim's seat.

Bones sat there for a long, long time. The dog scratched to get in, but he didn't move. He held his still unopened coke and stared blankly at the television. His face was suddenly wet, though he didn't remember when he started crying. His numbed mind tried to tell him that this was illogical, but that only broke the dam.

Bones put his bottle on the coffee table and doubled over with the hilt of his palms pressed into his eyes. He had been so determined to be strong, but now the realization that this emptiness was going to be his life completely broke him. All the things that Jim had tried so hard to keep at bay came back in a wallop: Empty bed, single showers, meals for one, no conversations, no kisses stolen out on the field, no goofy-looking bangs for him to muss up, no lazy, muttered sweetness in the morning; nothing but himself and his sullen thoughts.

He knew it was going to be rough, but this was ridiculous.

Bones let himself cry and feel helpless until he became utterly fed up with himself. When he felt like he was going to be sick again, he sucked in a final breath, trying to still the splutters of emotion, then sat upright and rubbed his face. He slapped his knees and grit his jaw.

"You're a doctor, not a widowed old lady," he reminded himself firmly. He had patients, files that needed to be worked on, and phone calls that had to be made.

Bones got up off the sofa, ignoring his untouched soda. He let Lady in, then threw the blanket off his shoulders and stormed to the kitchen. He forced himself to drink more water than was probably good for him, and carried another glassful to his office in the back of the house. After setting his glass down firmly, he pulled out his data padds, cracked his knuckles, and set to work.

Jim and Spock were off to the save the universe, the least he could do was save a little girl from the Mendakan pox.

It had been two weeks since Spock and Jim left. They had sent Bones as many messages as they could; telling him that they had arrived at Starfleet, everything was fine, and they were expecting to go up to Starbase 9 within the next set of days. Bones was able to tell them in honest that he had been swept up in work, and that he had been sober as a newborn lately. He had to lie through his teeth when they asked him if he was doing alright, and he had the inkling that they had to lie in turn.

Bones had taken on more cases than usual, and worked them all with great dedication and precision. He even agreed to travel for hours just to meet a patient bedridden with something a little more suspicious than the common cold, but turned out to be just as mild of a disease.

Were things going alright? For the most part. Bones managed to keep his searing loneliness at bay, and began to sleep on the couch so that the big, empty bed wouldn't remind him of his position and keep him from sleeping every night. The constant check-ins from Spock and Jim helped him cope, up until the day that Jim gave the fatal message:

"_We won't be able to talk, anymore. We're leaving base tomorrow, and the risk of the enemy tracking our transmissions is too great. Just know that we love you, babe. Probably more than what's good for us, seeing how some distracting, dirty little thoughts have gotten me and, by default, __Spock_ _in trouble more than once. You freaking minx, with your damn southern charm...Look, we'll talk as soon as we can. I promise. Keep safe, stay sober, focus on work, and know that we're thinking of you every second."_

Bones had been tending to a patient when the transmission came through, meaning that all he had was a recording. He listened to the ending part several times, trying to engrain the instructions so that he couldn't violate them, and wondered when 'soon' was going to be.

He thought about that message a lot, and one day found himself sitting on the steps of the front porch, thinking about Jim's words and how he said them: Every pause, accentuation, and emphasis. Then he thought about how Spock would say those words, and laughed humorlessly at himself when he realized that his vocabulary wasn't big enough for that. But he knew Spock _would _say them to him, and he probably had in the private world of his mind.

Bones stared up at the stars as Lady came around and settled down next to him. He put his hand on her back and distractedly smoothed down the soft fur and, in turn, she buried her face in the crook of his neck affectionately. They stayed like that until, as if in a trance, Bones rose up and stepped down onto the driveway.

Lady followed him down and posted herself by his side as Bones began to walk. He went all the way down to the road, then followed the wooden posts. The lights were on in the house, and made it look like a lighthouse against the expanse of the dark fields. Still, Bones walked, and Lady loyally stayed marched along with him.

He didn't know how long he had been walking, only that his feet hurt inside his shoes and he only had a vague idea of where he was. Bones had come to a small town, where loud music played from small bars. Somewhere along the way, the dirt road had turned to pavement. He could walk in the middle of the road without fear of any cars coming, though, and idly began to look at the bars.

Bones stopped in front of the only one that wasn't blaring obscene music. It was a gay bar, from the looks of it, but obviously that wasn't a problem for him. Unconsciously, Bones pat down his pockets and felt the edge of his wallet tucked away. Knowing that he had a decent sum of credits in there, he made a choice and walked over to the front door.

A cold nose rutting against his palm made Bones start and look down. He just now registered that the dog had followed him all the way to the town. Annoyed and slightly honored, Bones pointed at Lady firmly, then over at a tree.

"You stay there, Lady, you hear me? _Stay._"

For everything in the world, Lady was just like Jim. However, the only shining difference was that she actually listened to orders. With a flick of her tail, she went to the tree and turned in circles before sitting down. Bones nodded in approval, then pulled open the door and stepped inside.

Unlike most gay bars, the atmosphere was relatively calm and easygoing. It was your typical, classic dive; a jukebox in the corner, some smokers playing pool, and a classy looking bartender behind the counter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bones could hear Jim telling him to stay sober. He kept this in mind as he migrated towards the bar, and repeated what he was going to say over and over in his mind:

"_I'll have a light budweiser classic, I'll have a budweiser classic, I'll have a budweiser classic…_"

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender.

"I'll have…" Bones took one look at the menu and felt himself cripple, "Fuck, I'll have a shot of whiskey. Make that two."

He was instantly disappointed in himself, but not enough to change his order. Watching the bartender go off, Bones grouched, settled down in his seat, and looked over his shoulder at the pool game. The song playing on the jukebox was an oldie, which suited him just fine. He couldn't stand modern music, with all its synthetic thrums and whistles.

The bartender placed his drinks in front of him, and Bones downed the first one without any hesitation. The burn in the back of his throat made him blink away watery eyes and let out a rough exhale. Sniffing, he placed the glass down and bowed over his second drink; contemplating before he even touched it.

He heard a whistle to his left, which made him glance up at the man sitting a few seats from him. The smile on that man's face was a little too creepy to be friendly, if that's what he was going for. He was dressed like your typical Terran cowboy; something that looked tacky on anyone who wasn't Jim Kirk, and Bones almost laughed at him right off the bat.

"What's a fine piece of ass like that doing on a cold, hard stool?" asked the man; his voice loud and irritating. He slapped his thigh and rubbed it. "Why don't you come on over here to get a better seat?"

Bones scoffed sardonically, shook his head, and went ahead with that second drink.

"I think I'd be doin' my ass even more of a disservice," he said.

"C'mon, baby boy, I won't bite. Unless you're into that kinda thing. You look like a fighter, now, don't you? Like real spitfire in bed."

The image played out perfectly in Bones' head: Jim would slam his glass down and stand up all muscle and swagger, Spock would mutter a curt '_Jim' _into his water, and the night would end with blood, bruises, and getting the bum's rush from the bartender. When they got home, Bones would be unable to resist pouncing his boyfriend while Spock would stand by and comment on the illogical praise. He wouldn't do this for long before they'd pull him down with them, and everything would have been perfect.

Instead, Bones had to sit and ignore the inappropriate commentary. Even though he knew it'd be smarter to ease up on the whiskey with a guy like that around, he finished the second drink.

The man stood up from his seat and moved down next to Bones. The doctor shifted, uncomfortable and irritated, when the man leaned on the bar and confronted him. The red in his face was a clear indication of drunkenness, and the wandering eyes were a clearer indication of something worse.

"So, let me guess," he said, "you don't usually come here?"

"It's my business where I go and how frequently I go there," retorted Bones.

"Sharp tongue you've got there, boy."

"Oh, _please. _I don't have time for the desperate, excessively hormonal cowboy routine. You're about two drinks away from alcohol poisoning, buddy. You'd be smart to turn around and call a cab home."

The man's laugh was obnoxious and biting. Very much what Bones didn't need.

"Don't you worry 'bout me, baby boy, I've drunken seven kinds of species five ways to Sunday in one sitting. You, however, are lookin' a little tipsy. Just enough to accept a lonely cowboy's invitation home, maybe?"

"I don't think there's enough alcohol in this entire quadrant that'd make me say yes to an offer like that."

"Well, you're gonna need _someway _to get home. I've got a cruiser out back; one of the antiques, y'know? Ever hear of a Ford?"

"Yeah, I've heard of a Ford. Real hunks of junk, if you ask me."

"Clearly you've never seen my truck."

Bones snorted. "_Clearly._"

"I could give you a ride home. Where do you live?"

"First of all, you're too shitfaced to be drivin' home yourself. Secondly, if you don't back off right now, pal, I'm gonna do something that you're gonna regret a hell of a lot more than I am come morning. I'm in a _real _irrational mood, and I ain't interested. Take that as a warning."

The man chuckled again, and Bones rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"If you're not interested in being bent over by a strong man, why'd you come to a gay bar then, baby boy?" asked the stranger, putting his hand on Bones' thigh. Bones didn't hesitate to smack it right off, and glared a thousand knives into him.

"My location doesn't increase your nonexistent sex appeal. I came here for cheap drinks, not cheap sex."

"Let me buy you some drinks, then."

"I'd rather burn out my own eyeballs," snapped Bones. He put some credits on the counter and slipped off, pointing at the man. "And before I go, let me tell you one more thing: If you wanna pick someone up, you don't do it by disrespecting them. No one wants to sleep with a pig. Learn some goddamn chivalry."

On that note, Bones whisked around and stormed for the exit. The man wolf-called after him until he was out on the sidewalk and away from the cigarette smoke and old music. He blew out a sharp breath and wished dearly that he could have at least had a third shot before leaving. Lady had stayed right where she was told to the entire time, and her tail started wagging when he looked at her.

Bones just shook his head distastefully, as if she would understand and reciprocate his displeasure. He snapped his fingers and she was by his side in seconds; following him as he made his way back down the sidewalk.

The desire to drink was stronger than ever but, after that little incident, Bones was right enough in his mind to know better. He shoved his hands in his pockets, thumbs out, and hunched his shoulders. It hit him that he just wandered several miles away from home without even locking the front door. It didn't help with his slow descension into misery.

Bones patted down his pockets and realized that he hadn't taken a transmitter with him. Swearing, he began to look around for a public hailing station. He needed a taxi, since there was no one at home who was going to get worried and come looking for him, and no way in hell was he going to walk back all that way.

There was the sound of tires screeching down the road. Bones flinched and looked over his shoulder to see a Ford come speeding down. Oh, great. This had better not be who he thought it was, or else he was going to have a hissy fit.

Instead of a hissy fit, though, he muttered some choice words and rolled his head up along with his eyes to make his disbelief clear to the stranger from the bar. The man pulled up alongside him, and followed him slowly as Bones started walking again; lips working in annoyance.

The man rolled down his window and grinned, looking more drunk and crazy than ever.

"Now, I ain't just gonna let you walk home alone. Where's your ride?" he asked.

"What do I have to say to you to get it through your thick skull that I ain't going _anywhere _with you?" snapped Bones, keeping his eyes forward.

"I know what it looks like when someone's playing hard to get. C'mon, it's dark out, it doesn't even look like you've got a ride. Hop on in, I'll take you wherever you need to go."

Lady bowed her head and made discontent, uneasy noises to herself. Dogs were a lot smarter in the 23rd century; like they evolved with the ability to be attuned to emotions. Lady especially seemed to be able to pick up when one of her masters was unhappy and, boy, was Bones unhappy.

The man kept on jabbering about the things that could happen to a pretty face so late at night, so Bones decided to cut him off. He looked the man dead in the eyes with that wide-eyed, hate filled stare that scared so many of his colleagues, and his voice took on a forceful tone. It stopped the man short.

"I used to work in an emergency room," said Bones, like he was haunted. "I've seen things that would make a grown man wet his pants and run to his mama crying. Car crashes were rare, but almost _all _the victims severely injured in a crash were under the influence of alcohol. Lacerations, severed ligaments, ruptured spinal discs; torn and herniated. I've seen a man with a shard of glass in his eyeball, right through the cornea, and I can still hear him screamin' sometimes.

"Everyone of them was drunk; even with as little as a .02 percent BAC. That vodka that's coursing through your veins might dull your senses right now, but don't count on it when you can see your fibula pokin' through your flesh. So _there's_ a fair warning to save some doctors the trouble of patching your sorry ass back together, because I don't doubt you'll be nothin' but a sad statistic on the morning news if you don't pull over and get a taxi right this second."

The man laughed. He sounded nervous.

"So, you're a doctor?"

"I know which bones'll hurt the most when broken."

The man muttered something under his breath, rolled up the window, and pulled ahead and out of sight. Bones blinked for the first time since he started talking, breaking his demonic trance, then shook his head. Forget about Jim starting heroic bar fights for his honor, all Bones had to do was rattle off some scary terms and he was fine.

This realization made him feel slightly better about himself: Just enough to give him the will power to walk back home.

Five months passed, and lazy spring was coming around after a harsh winter. Bones started opening all the windows and would enjoy the breeze while listening to the radio, or writing up prescriptions. He got into the habit of alternating through Spock and Jim's wardrobes; glad that there were enough clothes so that each article he picked would smell just like them for a long time.

At the moment, he was wearing a black shirt from Spock, and one of Jim's flannel button-ups. The mixture of scents relaxed him, and his pen drifted lazily across his notebook: His more prefered way to write. One of the universities in New New York asked him to give a guest lecture at a medical conference. It was a prestigious offer, and a great honor, so he would be flying over next week to meet all the professors. Although he hated small chat and schmoosing, he let himself be a little excited about being in a real, medical environment again.

As he worked on his lecture, Bones became so enwrapped in his work that he missed the first two buzzes of his transmitter. On the third buzz, he looked up and saw it dancing around on the desk. Trying to keep his heart from stopping, he picked it up and gave one glance at the ID before jolting out of his chair. In a kind of frenzy, he grabbed a holoscreen from his desk and transferred the call with a press of the button.

At once, the image of Spock and Jim appeared on the screen. Spock was bent over, as if tweaking something, and Jim was practically splayed on his back; asking a million questions a mile. Bones grinned widely when he saw them, especially when he realized that they didn't know he was there. After a few moments, Jim glanced up, hit Spock's shoulder, and leaned back for a proper view.

"Heeeey!" he cheered, then looked at Spock. "See? Easy. I knew we could reach him from here."

"I did give you the odds, and there _was _a partial chance that we would."

"Whatever. Bones! Hey, how you doing? Can you see us?"

"Yeah, I can see you, you loudmouth," said Bones, still unable to stop grinning like a fool as he fell back into his chair. "I thought you couldn't make calls? Where are you guys?"

"Disclosed location," said Spock.

"But we're safe. We made it to an outpost, and we're gonna be here for a while. Meaning we can see your gorgeous face once in a while before we leave again. You look good, babe. And sober. Really sober."

"Yeah, ain't that a miracle? So, tell me, how are you handling the strict rules and regulations of the military?"

"Blech."

"I find it most fulfilling," said Spock.

Bones and Jim scoffed at the same time and said, "_you would._" which cracked them both up when Spock perked an eyebrow at the instant, synchronized rebuttal. Jim then turned the conversation-somewhat abruptly, if Bones was paying attention.

"What are you working on?"

"Hm? Oh, well," Bones took up a smug expression, "guess who got asked by the Manhattan University of Medical Science and Studies to give a guest lecture at their conference this upcoming weekend?"

Both Spock's eyebrows went up, because he knew how high of an honor that was, and Jim smiled dumbly because he didn't know, but thought it sounded fancy and was therefore proud of him.

"Most impressive, Leonard," said Spock.

"That means you're just going to talk about doctor stuff in a room full of doctors, right?"

"I guess when you water it down, _yes, _it's me talking about 'doctor stuff' to a bunch of doctors. Except these doctors are the best ones around, so it's a pretty damn big honor."

"Wow. What are you going to talk about?"

Bones opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded.

"I'll think of something," he assured.

"Might I suggest your studies on the cure of xenopolycythemia?"

"It's incomplete research, Spock."

"Might I suggest you complete it?"

"Alright, you smartass, I'm not a Vulcan; I can't just run those formulas through my head and figure out if they're gonna work or not. Especially not in the course of a week. I'd need a proper lab to do my testing."

"Why not get a lab, then?" asked Jim, shrugging.

"I'd have to get a job at a hospital if I wanted to use a lab."

"Those doctors down at Northside told you that the offer's always standing, y'know."

"C'mon, Jim, I'm a country doctor now. My time in the ER is done. I make house calls, write prescriptions, and hand out band-aids. You have any idea how crazy a doctor's schedule is? I wouldn't get home until two in the morning."

"It's not like you have anyone waiting up on you," said Jim. He smiled gently, so the impact of the words didn't hurt. Then he smirked, and Bones missed that look so much that his heart fluttered like a damn teenage girl's. "I think you'd look sexy in a labcoat, wouldn't you say, Spock?"

"Most aesthetically pleasing, indeed."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," yeah, that was a lie, "I'd have to drive out miles every day to get there."

"So rent an apartment. We've got enough money for that; especially with Spock and my new payment plan. Just take the animals and move out into the city for a while. You don't have to sell the house, or anything. You can come back to it when you get the chance to."

"I dunno, Jim, sounds like a real hassle to me. We'll see."

"Don't turn into a stuffy old man, Bones. You've always been dangerously close to the crotchety meter."

"Shove it. I'll think about it, alright? I mean, someone's gotta be around here to keep the house nice for when you two get back."

Jim pulled in his lower lip and chewed on it while Spock stiffened, just barely. They probably thought that Bones wouldn't notice this, but he did. However, he couldn't comment on it when Jim started smiling again.

"Yeah, that's true. Don't wait up for us, though. Space is _big, _man, it could take a while to

get home."

"Well, you're scheduled to come back at some point, aren't you?"

"At the moment, the contents of our future schedules are undetermined. Relief may be months yet to come, but rest assured, Leonard, that we shall do all in our power to be back when we can," said Spock.

"I shoulda figured. Damn militaries overworking their soldiers."

"It _is _war."

"Yeah, I know. You two are getting enough sleep, right? Spock, is Jim still eating too many carbs? Jim, you're eating more vegetables, aren't you?"

Jim laughed. "Uh, sure. Yeah, I am, no worries."

"Liar. I want you to double whatever portion of vegetables you're getting."

"Sure, Bones."

"And, Spock, I want you to get some _real _sleep. None of that meditation crap."

"Although it is the Vulcan way of rest, I will comply to the best of my abilities if it will put you at ease."

"Damn straight it will. I don't need you two firing phasers with nutrition and sleep deprivation. You tell your goddamned superior officers that they've got a doctor dissatisfied with the conditions for their soldiers."

"A hospital doctor," corrected Jim.

"Dammit, man, there's no difference between a country doctor and one who works in a hospital but a bunch of sterile walls and weird-ass lights."

"And, y'know, a doctor who works in a hospital has higher pay."

"He is also kept better occupied," input Spock.

"You two are gonna keep pushing this, aren't you?"

"No, of course not. But if you working in a hospital, they also have wicked cafeterias-"

"Alright, _alright, _I said I'd think about it, didn't I?"

Jim smiled, and you could see Spock's lip want to twitch up. There was a whistle from the other end, and Jim's smile faded into an attentive look. Bones could hear the faint announcement from a light, Russian accented voice that all personnel from Alpha were to report to the briefing hall. Bones felt his heart drop, and could tell the same happened to his partners.

Jim gave an apologetic smile.

"That's us," he said.

"Are we gonna be able to talk again soon?"

"Chances are in our favor," replied Spock, confident.

"Good. I miss you idiots."

"We miss you as well, Leonard. Very prominently."

"We'll talk soon, babe. We seriously have to go now, but I love you, alright? Both of us do."

"I love you, too."

"Bye, Bones."

"Bye-"

The screen went dark. Bones swallowed his words and exhaled them silently on a sigh. He stared at the screen for a little while longer, then put it back on his desk. He leaned back, the charisma and previous brainstorming long since gone, and looked out the window. A brush of air made him inhale deeply and appreciate for a split second that he was breathing real, god-to-honest air, and not the standardized crap they have on starships.

Bones looked back at his work and thought about the xenopolycythemia. He also thought about working at a hospital, and shook his head, amused. He'd have to go through some refresher courses before getting back in the operation room, but it wouldn't be too hard. Maybe they'd even keep his nickname, and he could be 'Doctor Bones' instead of 'Doctor McCoy.' It sounded like a TV show, and wasn't _that _delightful?

Bones contemplated this as he took up his pencil again and chewed the eraser. Despite the abrupt end, his conversation with Spock and Jim had raised his spirits tremendously. Knowing that they were going to call back sometime soon just made him succumb to a smile. He looked at the radio, then switched the channel from the news station to classical country.

The next time Jim and Spock called, Bones had seriously considered their suggestion. He decided that, dammit, why the hell not? He was going to to apply, and would do whatever studying was required of him to make sure he got that position. When he answered the call this time, he started it off by tossing his hand.

"Alright," he said, "I called the hospital. They said they'd take me for an interview when I get back from the conference."

Both men lit up where they hadn't been happy before. Jim cracked a huge grin at once, and Spock tilted his head upwards an inch to show his approval.

"'Atta boy, Bones!"

"I predicted as much."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Spock's been 'predicting as much.'"

"I honestly wouldn't have called if I didn't know you two were gonna bitch about it for all eternity if I didn't.."

"See? Moral support. That's what boyfriends are for," said Jim. Something unidentifiable altered his expression, then he cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm really happy for you, Bones. But, listen, we don't have much time. We're taking off in ten minutes, but we just needed to call one last time."

"Where are you heading off to?"

"We can't say."

"I guess I should have seen that comin'. Alright, you two be safe."

"Promise. Talk to you later, Bones. Love you."

Jim got up after smiling one last time, and left Spock alone. The Vulcan watched Jim move out of sight, then looked at the screen again. For a brief second, Bones thought he saw the Vulcan's eyebrows twitch in hesitation. Then he decidedly said:

"I love you as well, Leonard."

That took Bones by surprise. Although Spock had confessed his love before, it was never verbally, and never really needed to be as such. As sweet as it was, Bones wasn't sure he liked the setting in which it was spoken. He was unsure when he nodded his farewell.

"I love you, too, Spock."

Spock cut the transmission. Something heavy unsettled in the pit of Bones' stomach, but he tried his hardest to pass it off as nothing and went back to his work.

The moment the screen went blank, Spock leaned back in his seat and stayed there. He heard a wet sniff and looked to the corner of the room, where Jim had his back to him and was trying to compose himself. It was clear he was crying, but was struggling to bite back the tears, and let out his frustration with a shout and a swift blow to the wall.

Spock rose from his seat and put his hands behind his back. It was ironic that, after all his training and discipline, this was the one time that Jim Kirk couldn't retain perfect conduct. Jim furiously wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, then let out a sharp exhale and turned back to face Spock. He glared instantly upon seeing the Vulcan's expression.

"What are you doing, looking so goddamned appalled at me?" he snapped.

"We leave for our mission in seven hours, Jim, not ten minutes. Why did you lie to Leonard?"

"Because _this!_" Jim furiously indicated his flushed, tear-stained face. "How do you expect me to talk to him like nothing's going on, when in reality we're about to go on a suicide mission into Romulan space? We're going to _die. _I told him; I promised him that we'd both come back. How can you expect me to hide something that big from him?"

"There is a chance that we will survive. I gave you the odds."

"Yeah, you gave me the fucking odds, but the odds aren't in our favor. Not this time."

"I thought you did not believe in 'no-win scenarios'?"

"Well, now I do. Happy?"

"Quite the opposite, if I were to follow the intricacies of emotion. This defeatist attitude is not like yourself, Jim."

"What do you want me to do? We're baiting ourselves; the phasers in the shuttlecraft won't be enough to fend off a Romulan armada. Tell me, though, because I'd be thrilled to know; _is _there any way we can boost our chances? Is there _really _an option that could save our lives, as well as the lives of twenty-eight other men and women?"

"If there was, we would have employed it by now."

"Exactly! So why are you getting on me about this?"

"Because James Tiberius Kirk does not blanch in the face of danger," said Spock cooly, "He does not allow the concept of fear to control his emotions, nor his actions. Instead, he uses it as fuel to motivate heroism and illogical, impulsive ideas that oftentimes, however impossible it may seem, lead to victory. The James Kirk I know would be coming up with several alternatives, no matter how futile, even as we stand here."

Jim deflated slightly. He angrily pinched his nose, sniffing, then rested his hands on his hips and exhaled. Another tear washed down his face, and he shook his head.

"He just has so much to lose. It's what he said to me on the day I confronted him about how he was handling us being drafted. He told me that we would have each other, and he'd be left to die alone. He's right. I've got you, Spock. I've had you this whole time. Bones has nothing."

"He shall have fond memories of us that he may look to for comfort. He make seek therapy, the sanctuary of his home in Georgia, and he will recuperate and regain the strength to move on."

"Oh, don't be so fucking _objective _about it. You know as well as I do that none of that's going to work. We picked up a broken man, he can't take another heartbreak. He'd sooner…"

"Are you suggesting that Leonard would terminate his own life?"

"Y'know," said Jim, barely above a whisper, "he might."

Spock's hands tightened behind his back and his shoulders squared. Being in the military and enduring battles day after day led to somewhat morbid discussions in mess hall. Both Jim and Spock had heard soldiers say that their significant others would be likely to kill themselves if they were to die in battle, but those soldiers mostly agreed that they would be pleased to be together again in the afterlife.

Jim and Spock ventured to talk about it one night, and both agreed that they would rather Leonard live as long as he could, even if his life wasn't a full one. Bones was a troubled spirit, but the earth made him happy, and the sun seemed to power his very essence. The idea of him removing himself from that, permanently, was a thought that neither man liked to consider.

Spock understood the point of Jim's turmoil, now. He wasn't worried about dying, or

even scared for the most part. He was upset because he knew deep in his heart that this mission would take one extra life, if it should fail.

After a moment of thought, Spock lowered his mental shields and experienced only a slight bit of Jim's pain. It was overwhelming, but he didn't block it out. Instead, he took it upon himself to carry the burden, and intended to ease some of the hurt in his boyfriend. Jim was able to stop crying a few moments later, and he wiped his face with hand.

"Thanks," he said, hoarse, "and I'm sorry."

"You never need to express those sentiments to me, Jim."

Jim didn't smile, but he wasn't sobbing, so it was an approvement. Spock crossed the room and let his hands drift in front of himself. Bones and Spock were both none too keen on unnecessary touching, but Jim thrived on it. The gesture meant more than the usual indication, and Jim accepted the embrace; appreciation vibrating through their bond.

"I wish he was here," Jim muttered.

"As do I."

"I wish I didn't hang up like a sissy."

"We may always call him back, if you wish."

"He'll know the second he sees my face."

"Then, perhaps, we may record our final farewells and arrange for them to be sent to him post mortem."

The idea made Jim hold a little tighter, as if trying to hide from it. Still, Spock felt him nod against his chest and sniff one last time.

"Alright. Let me get some water, first. I don't want to sound like I'm dying in a message that he's gonna get when I die."

Spock released him from the embrace and let Jim go to the door leading to the hallway. He stopped by a mirror and quickly made himself look as presentable as possible before tugging his uniform straight. The door slid open but, before he left, Jim looked back.

"You know what?" he said, "You're right. I still don't believe in no-win scenarios."

"As Leonard would say, I had a hunch that you didn't."

At 0900 hours, Earth time, thirty Federations soldiers deployed into Romulan space with nothing but shuttlecrafts to use to their defense. Their mission was to distract several Romulan scouts and, if at all possible, take them down. Chances of survival were slim to none. There were no preparations made to receive a returning party.

Bones had the strong feeling that something was wrong. He thought about it when he went to the conference, he worried in the back of his mind when he talked to some of his biggest idols, and was distracted in thought when he gave the most important lecture of his life. The praise afterwards went over his head, and he didn't even notice when they announced his nomination for a major award.

During the interview back in Iowa, Bones answered every question with a robotic practice. His body was on autopilot as he drove home with a new salary and work hours. He sat by his desk and stared at the holoscreen, waiting for it to pop to life with Jim's smiling face and Spock's ridiculous eyebrows. He thought that something was very wrong when he was still sitting there when the sun went down and the stars were out.

It started as a mental tick in the back of his mind. Whenever he was out trimming the hedges, or weeding the lawn, he would hear a car coming and think;

"_There they are. Here to tell me that they're gone._"

And then the car would pass and he'd carry on as if nothing happened. Then it got worse when he started to realize how heavy his thoughts were; how morbid his assumptions had become. A feeling of unease took up in his chest and made everything he did feel surreal and paranoid.

Since he had to settle his personal patients with a new doctor, Bones didn't have to start work at the hospital just yet. He was glad for it, too, since he could barely focus as it was. Between making calls and researching clinics, he remembered that he was supposed to be looking for an apartment to rent, so he also looked for an apartment to rent, because that's what he was supposed to be doing.

The news gave nothing new. It had been almost a year since the upstart of war had begun. Then, one day, the Federation was suddenly winning. How or why wasn't important, because troops were starting to be sent home. By autumn, when Bones was still supposed to be searching for an apartment, the war was more of a battle here and there. The Federation put a cap on it before it was blown to interstellar scales.

So the draft really worked. Bones thought it would be like starting a race too fast, but that didn't seem to be the case at all. The Federation hit hard, they hit quickly, and it paid off; maybe at the cost of several thousand lives, but it was war and there were casualties. Bones, at this point, had become convinced that Jim and Spock were amongst those nameless dead.

He didn't act on this conclusion, though. He was numb, and he hadn't had a real thought or emotion since the last day he spoke with them. Somewhere deep inside, he was amazed at himself that he hadn't turned back to alcoholism. Then again, this mindless android thing he had going was possibly worse.

Bones hadn't gotten a visit with condolences, yet. He hoped that this meant that Jim and Spock were alright, but part of him kept up the insistence that it was just because they hadn't found their bodies, yet. He knew that he was becoming depressed, and thoughts like this didn't help, but he stopped caring a while back.

The leaves on the tree had changed color, and Bones was sitting at the piano. The song that he and Spock played was out on the stand, and he found himself just staring at the notes. Particularly the seventeen that he missed. If he didn't have a job, he would have stopped shaving and keeping his hair clean ages ago. To compromise, he allowed himself to wear clothes that probably could use a good washing, but were too comfortable to take off.

Bones lifted his hands placed his fingers gently on the keys, not pressing, but trying to remember the warmth from Spock's hour long sessions. He positioned them carefully over the right notes, when he heard the sound of a car coming down the driveway. Bones' heart froze, which would have been a nice change of pace if it wasn't such a terrifying one. He looked over his shoulder at the front door and his eyes widened as the sound of footsteps could be heard.

All this time, he had been waiting for this moment. Now that it was here, he didn't want it; he wanted whoever was there to go away and leave him in his purgatorial state. There was a knock at the door, and then another when he didn't respond.

Bones pushed away from the piano and rose. He walked stiffly to the door, feeling heat rise to his face. He had every mind to yank it open and scream for the Federation officers to get lost but, when he did, it wasn't a pair of officers on his door. No, it was the stranger from the bar seven months ago.

Unbelievable.

The man blinked in recognition, then lowered the book in his hand and shined up.

"Well, hey there, darlin'. I remember you. You were the feisty doctor."

"What the hell do you want?" growled Bones. The man smiled and held up his book.

Bones took one look at it before he felt his jaw slack in disbelief. "A bible. You're out here selling _bibles_?"

"Hey, it puts bread on the table. And according to this book, if you get one loaf of bread, you can turn that into a thousand with the proper beliefs!" said the man, laughing obnoxiously.

"Yeah, a food synthesizer does that pretty damn well, too."

"Look, I don't believe this stuff; I just sell it. But, hey, for a pretty face like yours, I'd give it to you for absolutely no cost. Except, maybe you'd let me come in-"

Bones slammed the door on the man's face and sighed thickly. There was a persistent knocking, so he twisted the lock and moved to the open window. He leaned out, catching the man's attention, and flipped him off before moving back in to slam the window shut. It got jammed halfway down, and Bones swore heavily under his breath as he began to push down with all his might.

The man perked up at this and went over, tipping his cowboy hat as he smiled through the glass at him.

"Well, now, aren't you eager to get rid of me?"

"I'm calling the police."

"Whoa, easy there, partner, no need for that. Here, quit pushin' and I'll help you close the window."

Bones was pretty sure that if he backed off, the man would thrust the window all the way open and Don Jaun his way into the house. Instead, he stayed true to his word and started to pick at something lodged in the crack between the two panes.

As he watched him and counted down the seconds before he left, Bones picked up that the radio was blaring loudly from the stranger's ford. It was a local news station, which surprised him, considering this man held no semblance of intelligence. The woman was talking about something or another involving the war, and then she went on a list of awards that were to be given to returning soldiers that evening.

The list went on and on. Apparently there were a lot of heroes out there.

"..._Austin Johnson, Brek Ji'tla, James Kirk, Janice Lester-_"

The window slammed shut and the stranger sighed in content. His smile dropped to a frown when Bones threw it open again and leaned out; wide eyed and half-crazed.

"What did she say?!" he demanded.

"What who-?"

"The woman! On the radio! What name did she just say?"

"I don't know, I...I could play it back for you?"

Bones, in response, forced his body to fold like it used to and pushed himself out of the window. He halfway heard the stranger mumble, "_okay, we can do that,_" before he stepped all the way onto the porch and was jumping over the railing to get to the car. The stranger followed him, then leaned in through the driver's seat and was about to rewind when a second name came up:

"_...Deborah Riener, S'chn T'gai Spock-_"

"Jesus, man, did you hear that?!" Bones said. He hit the door, then waved his hand. "Rewind it, I need to make sure."

The stranger complied with this mentally unstable man and rewound until Bones told him to stop. The name repeated, and proved that Bones had heard correctly the first time. _James Kirk and S'chn T'gai Spock. _Jim and Spock were alive, they were on their way home, and those idiots didn't even tell him.

Bones waited until the woman on the radio informed him that the shuttlecraft would be docking at noon. He checked in with his watch and saw that it was noon exactly, meaning that he would have to hightail it if he wanted to catch them in time.

Without another word, Bones turned back to the house. The stranger watched him go, then followed him, but was stopped when the doctor threw out a hand.

"Thanks. Now get outta my driveway and quit defiling the word of the Lord."

"You know those guys?"

"Yeah," Bones turned back, halfway up the stairs to the front porch, "they're my motherfucking boyfriends."

The man opened his mouth, closed it, then figured it would in his best interest to simply leave and never come back again. Once he was out of the way and long gone, Bones had found Jim's car keys and slammed the front door shut so Lady couldn't follow him this time. He got into the cadillac and reared her out of there like his life depended on it. Once he was on the road, Bones made a sharp U-turn and made for the docking station like he had no time in the world to get there.

It was a miracle that he wasn't pulled over, considering the speed he was going. A cloud of dirt floated up behind him as he went, and the wind tore through his hair. Something sparked in Bones, and he felt himself slowly becoming alive again as he tore through Iowa with careless abandon.

Out of nowhere, a taxi zipped by and startled Bones enough to make him nearly slam on the breaks. Infuriated, he looked back at the offender and saw that it was skidding. Feeling his medical instincts kick in, Bones swore thickly under his breath and forced himself to forget his urgency just long enough to turn around and see to it that the driver was alright.

As he drew closer, Bones saw that the taxi was fine. He was about to start cursing the driver out for-hypocritically enough-reckless driving, when the passenger doors opened. Two people stepped out, and Bones went pale and then flushed red with shock and disbelief.

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me."

Jim and Spock had emerged from the taxi, wearing uniforms and medals of honor. They seemed just as surprised to see Bones as he was to see them as the cadillac drew to a halt a few yards from them. When the doctor stepped out of the car, leaving the door open, Jim let out an emotional breath and smiled.

"Bones," he said.

Bones stared at them, then clutched his hands slowly into fists and grit his jaw. All his emotions burst to life at once, and his reaction could have turned any which way. He didn't know what to do, so he took a step forward, then his step turned to a brisk walk, which then broke into an all out run.

Jim and Spock looked ready to greet him until Bones let out a scream like a Viking warrior going to pillage and murder. Then it looked like all they wanted to do was run away, but they couldn't have if they even tried.

Bones tackled Jim first. He knocked him straight to the ground and slammed his shoulders repeatedly into the dirt, fingers digging into his uniform. Jim choked on impact and struggled to get Bones off of him, but the man was vicious.

"You goddamned son of a bitch!" shouted Bones. "You complete bastard! You fucking, no-good, _idiot! _I thought you were dead, god dammit, I thought you and Spock died! Why in the name of Christ Almighty didn't you two call me!?"

Spock tried to step in as the taxi slowly drove away. He reached down and was going to take Bones' shoulder when the doctor rounded on him with a right-hook to the jaw.

"Don't think you're out of this, you green-blooded hobgoblin! You're supposed to be the logical one, so why didn't you think it'd be _logical _to let your goddamn boyfriend know you're not floating around in some hopeless, hellish vacuum up there?!"

Spock staggered at the blow, more in shock, and was then dragged down to the ground. Their wrestling was dirty: Bones tried every cheap trick in the book; screaming, fighting, writhing, biting, and Jim and Spock both tried to restrain and reason with him at the same time.

"We're sorry, Bones! We learned some stuff, we would have been targets, so we had to stay under protection for a while. God, you should be grateful! That's why we were allowed to come back!"

"_Grateful?!_" Bones spat. Spock had his wrists pinned down, and Jim was trying to get on top of him without getting kicked in the face. "Do you have any idea when the last time I ate was?! When I slept?! I couldn't do a goddamn thing for months! Spock, you pointy-eared bastard, let go of me so I can strangle you two!"

"Until you control your excessively emotional outburst, I will continue to restrain you."

Bones did something neither knew he was capable of, and was actually quite impressive. He rolled back enough to get his legs near Spock's face, then kicked him full-force in the nose. Spock let go of him immediately, and Bones used the split second to roll over and try to get at Jim again.

He didn't get very far before arms grabbed him around the waist and held him fast with inhuman strength. Bones was practically in Jim's lap, so he tried to sock him again, but Jim took his wrists and smashed their lips together. Bones growled loudly in protest, but Jim tipped him over until he was laying on his back in the dirt with Jim and Spock's full weight on him.

Bones continued to kick, but it was more like a pathetic slide against the ground that held no meaning. Jim didn't let up; he kissed him deeper, then broke away and shoved repeatedly rough kisses and bites on his cheek, down to his jaw, and up to his forehead. As this happened, Bones could feel Spock's hand raking through his hair; the other one brushing fingers up and down his bare, skinned arm.

Bones arched his back and didn't know if it was a final attempt to get free, or if he was succumbing. Either way, he let Jim slide his arm under his head as leverage to get him closer and basked in the feeling of Spock exploring his skin like it was a precious treasure map. The Yin and Yang of the rough and gentle was all too familiar, and Bones melded into it desperately.

He didn't know how it happened, but some time later he was completely in Jim's lap while Spock kissed his neck in a very human way, and Jim had a painfully tight grip on his hair. Bones felt Jim beneath him, and knew he was in a similar condition; hell, even Spock was probably having some arousal issues. The revelation made him pull back and pant out heavily.

"Jim-" he gasped.

"What, babe? What do you need?"

"I need us to not be like those first timers out in the wheat field last autumn."

Bones felt something strange against his neck. He glanced to the side and saw that Spock was smiling. His heart fluttered like a maiden of old, but, lord, he couldn't help it; it was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.

"What?" asked Bones quietly.

"Jim and I had intended on ordering delivery from Joe's Diner tonight."

Bones looked back to Jim with a smile that easily turned into a wet-eyed laugh, which Jim joined in on. The chuckles naturally died down after long, ecstasy filled moments, and Spock leaned away. Bones was about to stand up when Jim suddenly stood and took him along in his arms, making him swear in surprise and hang on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, Jim. What kind of steroids were you taking on that ship?"

"It's called '_Christoper Pike's Training Regiment_'."

"Let Christopher Pike know that I think he's a dick."

"I think you like being picked up."

"I think you need to put me down before I find a way to drop you to the ground and start all over again."

"I personally think that I am quite grateful that the taxi drive left when she did," said Spock. Bones and Jim looked at him and noticed, for the first time, that the taxi was really gone.

"I didn't even pay her," said Jim. "When did she leave?"

"When Leonard began his illogical, impulsive assault."

"He could have been trying to kill me for all she knew."

"I believe the phrase is '_no one wants to be a witness_'."

"Taxi drivers. Can't trust 'em," grumbled Bones.

Jim turned and began to head back to the car. It truly, deeply disturbed Bones how easily his boyfriend could carry him. He was used to Spock doing it on rare occasions (rare occasions with seven year intervals), but it was always a joke that Jim couldn't lift either one of his boyfriends straight from the ground. A lot had changed; both physically and, undoubtedly, in time, mentally.

Bones was ready for it, though. He had his boyfriends back and, right now that was more than he ever could ask for. The war wasn't over just yet, but Jim and Spock were safe; they were here, and it was alright.

Jim was about to set Bones down in the backseat, but the doctor kicked his legs in protest.

"Dammit, man, I'm a doctor, not an infant."

"Sorry," said Jim, chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. We just...We missed the catch phrases."

"Catch phrases? What am I, some kinda sidekick, now?"

"We just missed _you_, Bones. It's good to be back."

Bones thought he saw Jim's eyes get a little bit wet. But Jim Kirk didn't cry, so he reached up and brushed it away with a casual tenderness.

"You two don't know how good it is to see you. Darlin' boys, I'm going to kiss you absolutely senseless when we get back...But if you ever put me through something like that again, I won't hesitate to knock some more sense into you."

"Lesson learned," said Jim; holding his hands up.

They all settled down in the car. From the back seat, Bones noticed a scar beneath Spock's hairline. He also noticed that a patch of hair on Jim's head was much shorter than the rest; like it had been ripped out and was just now growing back. This made his stomach churn, so he pretended that he didn't see the wounds and looked at the sky as the car started up again.

There would be time to talk about all this, but right now, they were happy and had better things to discuss.

"So," Bones said, once they were moving, "I've got a story about a bible salesman."


End file.
